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Demoness Dreams – Wytchfae 6 by Flossie Benton Rogers

Desperate to escape her hellish nightmares, Neva Jaxony falls into the arms of rugged Bane Heughar. Is the mesmerizing man more dangerous than darkness itself?

Blurb: Heaven or hell? Dream or nightmare? Where passion is concerned, the veils are thin.

As her Wytchfae powers intensify and nightmares invade her waking reality, Neva Jaxony seeks answers in the shadowy past. Then a mysterious stranger enters the picture, and she falls hard. Is he the man of her dreams or part of the darkness that threatens to consume her?

Acclaimed warrior Bane Heughar has orders to prove Neva is not dangerous– or kill her before she can turn demon. He never expected to find her so bewitching, or so damn desirable. He has until the Solstice Moon to carry out his mission. All he really wants to do is take Neva in his arms, kiss her senseless, and for the two of them to disappear off the radar. But when the Underworld is involved, no one can hide.

Desperate to escape her hellish nightmares, Neva Jaxony falls into the arms of rugged Bane Heughar. Is the mesmerizing man more dangerous than darkness itself?

First Line Teaser: Hell was the last place Bane Heughar wanted to visit.

Teaser: He was hard pressed to remember his mission, when all he wanted to do was stash her in his bed and make love to her all night long.

Book Video: https://youtu.be/co2hpaGsoXc

Excerpt:

Underworld, Modern Day

Hell was the last place Bane Heughar wanted to visit. When the Goddess of the Underworld summoned, you never knew whether it was for tea and scones or to scourge you bloody. Maybe you’d get out in one piece, or maybe twelve. The pulse in his throat thudded at the sight of Helle’s grim expression.

The tautness of her face indicated disturbing emotions rippling beneath the surface. Her flaxen hair framed strong cheekbones, and her wintry grey eyes glittered. She reminded him of one of her showcase fountains—an icy lake with fiery jets that spurted upward and then crashed in startling and unpredictable abandon.

Stern looking soldiers flanked her.

She extended the tips of her fingers. “Warrior.” The scent of jasmine wafted into his nostrils.

He bowed his head to bestow a respectful kiss. “Goddess Helle. How may I be of service?”

“Come with me.” She swiveled, and a bodyguard advanced beside her. She thrust out a palm. “Halt! You shall remain here.”

Her visage turned thunderous. “Stay, I say. I will speak to the warrior in private.”

Beckoning for Bane to follow, she led him beyond the entryway of her palace, past her abode and deep into the tunnels of her cavernous domain. The pathways wound around until he doubted even his well-honed sense of direction could extricate him if she left him to find his own way.

What did she have to discuss with him that her own trusted guard could not hear?

A surge of adrenalin sizzled throughout his body. He had never ventured this far inside Helle’s mysterious netherworld. She appeared to be leading him deep into one of her innermost sanctums.

At last they came to a rounded crystal enclave where gleaming spears of quartz grew in wild abandon from the rocky walls and ceiling. The crystal luminescence created a dazzling bombardment amid the strategically situated torchlights. The power generated in the room heated his blood until his ears pounded. He cleared his throat to alleviate the pressure.

Helle made her way to a great tripodal cauldron perched on an array of low rocks. “Salamander fae, forged of earth’s blood, ye living fire, be at peace.” She fluttered her fingers, leaving a shimmering ripple in the air.

The flames beneath the tripod curled blue tendrils around the edges. Bane stepped closer. The tiny salamander fae, tenders of the sacred element, faded into the shadows, giving way to the Goddess. Their movement resounded in the enclave like the faint whispers of hissing steam.

The Goddess Helle swirled her hands back and forth over the cauldron and recited a strange incantation.

Even with his magical fae ability to understand foreign tongues, Bane couldn’t make out all the words. The language probably died out before humanoids rose on two limbs.

The water in the ancient cauldron churned and spewed in the presence of the Goddess of the Underworld. A shape formed in the vessel. The image blurred with the movement of the liquid and then stilled to reveal a stunning face. The woman’s hair glimmered like a halo of spun gold. A light kindled her exquisite features as if she looked upon a dazzling sight. A pleasurable thrill thrummed in the middle of Bane’s chest. When he spoke, his voice came out a whisper. “Who is she?”

Flossie Benton Rogers shares her passion for mythical realms by giving you sizzling dark fantasy romances with fairies, witches, goddesses, angels, and demons. Her writing buddy is the zany calico, Mistress Marigold. Reiki, tarot, runes, and gemstones are sometimes part of the magical mix. Flossie’s birth chart features sun in Sagittarius with a Taurus moon and Libra ascendant, as befits a 5th generation Floridian and freedom loving mystic.

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